[Spoiler alert: If you have not watched HEROES Season 1 yet (fool), you may want to wait to read this riveting post...]
When you live in Spain and can't turn on the TV because it's way, way too time consuming to figure out how to use anything from Telfonica, the most poorly run company on the planet (the same company that Thunder Perkins ... moment of silence ... could have run better than the current CEO), you compensate by spending vast sums of money downloading Heroes -- Seasons 1 through 4 -- for about 60 dollars per season, even though you know that it sells at BJs for 39 cents. Thanks itunes.
And when you have the flu and Dr. Juan (or Jose) McDreamy, your Spanish house-call Doctor, has almost cured you, but you're still bedridden, you can watch 500 hours of Heroes in a row. If you're not familiar with the show, here's the premise: sometimes ordinary people have a gene mutation (Darwin, blah, blah) and they develop super powers. One person can fly; one can zap people with electricity from her hands. You get the idea. Some powers are sort of useless. No thank you to the ability to breathe under water, for example. Yet some powers are pretty fantastic. Beware, I've "heard" that when you watch many episodes in a row, this starts to happen:
1. You start to believe that you just might have a super power developing yourself. After all, sometimes they develop in adults, and they're not always obvious -- such as the ability to control people like a puppeteer, for example.
2. If your power hasn't fully developed YET, you spend an inordinate amount of time wondering which power you would use if you were indeed developing powers, as you think you secretly might be.
Here's an example of a little game I play with myself. Let's just say, my chica loses my dog. I ask myself: which superpower would I use to fix this problem? Flying doesn't really help, although it might be useful after the fact. But the answer is obvious, right? It would be Hiro's abilty to time travel. Why? Because then I could travel back to the moment when that sneaky Chica was about to tie Thunder to the post and grab him.
Another example. Kids won't fill out essays the way you think they should be filled out for boarding schools. Which power? YES: Matt Parkman's ability to perform mind control! You wouldn't even have to say out loud that writing an essay about wanting to be in the Peace Corps would be better than an essay about wanting to be a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, for example. You could just think it. Better yet, you could forget about all those time consuming applications and mind control the admissions committee into admitting your kids (for free!) because they're so smart and creative and hold the secrets to the future in their hands (I'm trying out my mind control powers right now, Admissions people).
Here's my final example for today, but don't blame me if you want to try this game yourself. Ok, let's say you're in a foreign country and you need to learn a language, um, say Spanish. Remember that cute little red-headed waitress with the ability to learn everything she's read, including languages? Bingo! Yes, yes, I know she ends up with a brain tumor from the extra workload, but I'll limit my learning to Spanish. And just to be safe, I'm carrying a pack of tissues in case my power turns out to be mind control. Poor Matt Parkman gets a nose bleed every time he has to control someone who is really stubborn. With these kids, I'm gonna need a bunch of tissues.